Coming Undone
by CGreyson
Summary: it was painfully clear that ever-since that day, one stitch at a time, Saruhiko was coming undone. The only person who could put him back together, well, he wouldn't even look his way. Well, two could play this game, Saruhiko was determined to Misaki's attention at the cost of his already fragile sanity.
1. Saruhiko

Disclaimer: I do not own K project or any of the characters. I may as well put a trigger warning, there will be blood and self-harm in this piece of fiction. If you don't like, please don't read.

This is also just a short work to get into the mindset of Fushimi and Yata, primarily, in celebration of finishing the anime. 😊

 **Coming Undone**

 **Saruhiko**

Fushimi stared at the computer screen completely uninterested in the facts he was sorting through. If he were to be completely honest with himself, life had become boring since he joined with the blues. His left hand came up as he absentmindedly scratched at his chest. he started losing focus on the task at hand as he focused on what his hand was doing. Peeling away the protective healing skin from his scorched pride. The smell of blood made him smile. The strangest things brought him pleasure. Also as his thoughts progressed a certain face that haunted all his nightmares returned once more to the surface.

"...Misaki…" his voice sounded foreign and broken, he hadn't even meant to speak. His hand stilled and the numbness in his chest started pounding in time with his bleeding wound making it difficult to breath.

Fushimi started muttering trying to regain focus on the data before him. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, the red haired HOMURA punk kept pulling his attention away. His hand was back at the bloody wound on his chest, he frowned slightly as he realized there was blood on his uniform. No one would question. He knew most of his coworkers were afraid of him, and the ones that weren't, well, they didn't care as long as he performed well.

It was satisfying that he could be allowed to disfigure his flesh as he wished. However, a small piece of him longed for someone to give a damn. Yes, Fushimi Saruhiko didn't want to die, he just wanted to bleed. He only wanted his outsides to reflect his insides. For all the bravado that he displayed in his everyday life, Saruhiko was still a demented lonely boy who ran from his problems.

The red head flashed through his mind again emphasizing his feeling of loneliness. In a sudden act of rash anger, he jabbed his index finger into the shallow wound. The pain was wonderful and he inadvertently let out a cry, His breathing became momentarily haggard as he struggled to regain his composure,

Just then a knock came to his door. Saru gritted his teeth, of course someone would come at such an intimate personal moment.

"One second." He called out, his voice surprisingly steady. He grabbed some tissues and cleaned himself up, even if only a little, he looked at his left hand and frowned, no way to clean the blood stains off his fingertips. He sighed and shrugged rising from his seat shoving his hand in his uniform pocket as he did so. Stalking across the room he aggressively opened the door only to be greeted by the complacent Reisei Munakata.

Munakata stood patiently in the hall looking as regal as ever, "Good evening Saruhiko," his voice was like silk. Fushimi felt an involuntary shiver run like ice down his spine, and doubted that it went unnoticed by his superior.

Saru tried to keep his voice a respectful as possible, after all this was his king. "What can I do for you sir?" he asked his voice almost mockingly monotone.

"I just stopped by to see how you were doing with the task I assigned you." Munakata paused but a moment and frowned slightly as he took in Saruhiko's appearance, "May I come in?"

Fushimi had to restrain from rolling his eyes. Instead he kept his face blank and nodded slightly stepping aside returning to the computer where he was doing his research.

Munakata strode in regally closing the door behind himself sitting gracefully on the large leather chair that sat in the corner nearest to Fushimi 's desk. The dark-haired male wasn't sure why but he was uneasy, and for the first time that day he realized he had never turned on his office lights.

As if reading his thoughts Reisei spoke "Kinda dark in here, any particular reason you are working with the lights off?"

Saru glared at his computer screen deciding on how to answer the question, be honest or be sarcastic as fuck, he settled for somewhere in the middle. "I don't like the light, why else would I have left Homura for you?" he scrolled through pages of information pseudo reading as he waiting for his king's response.

"Now Saru that is a bit of a low blow, you know we care about you here. I'm sure by now you realize I am not here for your information that you aren't even focusing on." His voice was still uninhibited by emotion but he was now giving off a frenetic energy that had Fushimis hairs standing on end. The slighter male glanced up in surprise before schooling his facial features.

 _He knew! Munakata Knew!_ His heart started pounding in his chest and he couldn't help but look at his king. "What do you mean?" he questioned "I am doing my research, and if you aren't here for a status report then why else would you come by?" Fushimi asked, unable to stop the bitterness that crept into his tone.

Munakata locked his gaze with Fushimi's and held him there. Fushimi's lip began to curl into a snarl as he realized that his king was purposely hesitating. He wanted to tell him to get out, but a respect for the man in front of him, and a mild regard for the rules kept Saru pinned to his seat. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like sandpaper and he almost choked he felt his heart sink in his chest with every passing moment. Perhaps his self-destructive behavior hadn't gone unnoticed like he thought. Suddenly hyper aware of the visible stain on his uniform, and the conclusions His King could glean from that alone made him want to disappear. His breath all but stopped and he felt light headed, what could he do? He was trapped and if Munakata confronted him here, there would be no way out for him, he would have to face himself.

"You are a smart man Fushimi," the deep velvety voice broke the room from the stillness and Saru felt a piece of him fracture, "Why do you do this to yourself?" Reisei's voice was soft and the concern was evident in his gentle tone. His king paused and Saru new he waited for his answer now. Despite himself he responded ignorantly, "I don't know what you mean…what I do— "

Reisei cut him off, lunging up from his chair and trapping Saru in his. He placed one hand on each arm rest and purposely invaded the younger male's space his face finally showing some sort of emotion. "Bullshit," He hissed," don't toy with me, I can see the blood on your uniform, I've seen the rags in your trash. I know who drives you to do this, if you miss him that much just go talk to him!" the low angry voice of his superior dove right into the heart of the matter and Saru could feel himself loosing grip rapidly.

His rationale no longer coherent he raised his voice to his superior, "It's none of your god dammed business!" he ground out between clenched teeth, "As long as I do my duty, it doesn't matter how I conduct my own affairs!" Fushimi growled jabbing a thumb at himself, "And I suggest you keep your nose out of my personal business!" he finished his knuckles white from strain and his chest heaving as he fought down unwanted tears a slight keening noise escaping from his throat.

His king backed up and stood before him silent for a moment but composed but cold as ever when he spoke, "You are on a week's probation and if you haven't even attempted to sort out this mess of, how did you put it? Ah yes, an affair you have with Yatagarasu I will have no choice but to extend your suspension."

Fushimi was shocked, "what do you mean-?"

"You heard me. You are dismissed and I do not want to see you for a week." He ordered coldly, stalking out of the room leaving a broken and confused Saruhiko behind him.

The two seconds after the door clicked shut, felt like hours to Saru. He stared blankly at the door, unawares of his trembling hands, unawares of the single tear that had managed to break through his tightly woven façade. How long he sat there frozen, barely able to breath or think but eventually he began to thaw. He saved his work and shut down the computer. He stood and walked numbly to the door, opening it, exiting the room, and letting it fall shut behind him. The final click felt like a shot to his flesh and Saru knew exactly what he was going to do when he got home.

It was winter and the snow was falling, he was losing feeling in his body and it made him smile bitterly. Now he was the same as the inside, numb. It was a sick way to look at it but to Saru, that made him happy. He reveled in the pain, the only thing that made him feel real. The only thing that connected him to his beloved red head. Pain. He sighed and deranged laughter bubbled from his lips the hot air of his breath dancing with the falling snow. the laughter dissolved into a sob, something already broken breaking even more and Saruhiko was surprised he made it home.

So~ Let me know if I did any good getting into Fushimi's head~ I hope you enjoyed, leave a comment if you wish!

~CGreyson~


	2. Misaki

Disclaimer: I do not own K project, time to mess with Mi-sa-ki~ ;}

 **Coming Undone**

Chapter Two: Misaki

Yata, had felt a shift in his personality shortly after Fushimi had betrayed them for the blues. He seemed to have less energy for games, his easygoing personality became a mask, secretly craving any confrontation he could. In the name of Homra, of course.

Misaki threw himself into his work running from any of the feelings he had towards Fushimi, and consequently they fueled him with anger. He managed like this for quite some time, and he could have been content like this, constantly convincing himself everything was okay. However, that was a blessing that Misaki could not hope for. Mikoto Suoh died.

Yata couldn't take the blow. He actively pursued the blues, shut down and fueled by a bitterness of a decision he didn't understand. Why Saruhiko had betrayed HOMRA and left. Misaki still didn't understand, and as much as he thought about the other male, he could never seem to figure out who Saru had become. From the moment in time that Fushimi had betrayed him his friend became a stranger. Since then, all Yatagarasu Misaki felt was the bitter pain of betrayal caused by the man who had been his closest friend.

The bells to Kusinagi's bar announced the arrival of a new guest. The blonde barkeep looked up and greeted the newcomer.

"Hey Yata, how's it going today?" he inquired while drying some bar glasses

The red head looked at him and contemplated his answer for a moment before speaking. "Quiet, but not in a good way." Yata sighed and dropped into a couch, "Y'know like the calm before the storm."

Kusinagi set his glass to rest next to the other glasses and dropped the rag next to the bar sink. Coming around from behind the bar the blonde joined his fellow clan's man on the couch. "Oh, sounds rough." He said with a light hint of humor.

Misaki just clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Now was that really necessary?" the red head drawled, sulking just a bit, as his arms folded over his chest. "I just hate waiting. I wish those damned blues would make a move so I can **do** something! I'm going stir-crazy over here!" his words were like molten lava. They flowed and no one dared to stop them. Well no one except Kusinagi.

"Yata…you know even Anna has moved on. Mikoto would want you to move on." He paused long enough to quickly contemplate his next words and spoke once more. "I know this isn't about Mikoto, no he was just icing on the damned cake."

"What are you getting at?" Growled Yata impatiently.

The blonde barkeep smiled, a look akin to pity mixed with knowing painting his features. "What I'm getting at, Yata, is that you are still hung up on Fushimi. You have been since he left. You aren't eating, you aren't sleeping, you aren't doing fun things someone your age should be doing! Basically, you aren't living!"

"And what exactly is wrong with any of that!" interjected the red head jumping heatedly to his feet, "just because I'm dedicated to my king and my work doesn't mean I am not living! What if it's the lifestyle I want?"

Kusinagi sighed in slight ire, "Misaki— "

"Don't call me **that**!" he snapped.

Another heavy sigh and then, "Alright, Yata-listen, we—I am concerned because of how much energy **this** lifestyle is taking out of you. You are always short tempered and irritated. Why can't you just go talk to him-!"

"I don't **want** to see that **traitor**! There is nothing I want to talk to him about. He left me and HOMRA! That was his choice and talking to him won't fix anything anyways. So, butt out of my personal affairs Kusinagi." The red head was vibrating with tense energy, wound so tight he was ready to explode.

"I'll butt out when you start listening to reason and start handling yourself in a reasonable manner. You are wasting away to nothing." His voice was hedged with barely controlled anger and rampant concern. The blonde just wanted the best for his clan mate, Yata was like a brother to him and it pained him to see him continue day after day just a hollow shell of the boy he used to know. And he couldn't even see it.

"I can **handle** myself just fine thank you!" Yata's voice was trembling and he had already moved to the door. "I'll see you later." He said sullenly as he left the bar leaving Kusinagi to his own devices once more.

The blonde sighed and let out a resigned chuckle rubbing the back of his neck wearily. "Yata, I wish you would just listen to me." He sighed once more standing stiffly and walked behind the bar, "I just want to help you." He muttered softly to himself. He stared out the door window Yata had just left through, his eyes glazing over as he sunk into heavy thoughts and returned to wiping his bar glasses.

It was dark in the room where Saru was. He had slept till noon and even after several trips to the restroom he still had yet to get up and eat breakfast. He kept turning The Blue King's words over and over in his head. The man he had grown to respect as a father had just turned his world upside down. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Misaki was supposed to chase after him. Look at only him. Follow only him. He gritted his teeth and all but suffocated himself in his pillow. He chewed anxiously on the pillow case his thoughts whirring a mile a second. All his fears, all his insecurities were tearing at him, picking at his doubts, making him feel like dying rather than trying to find a certain red haired HOMRA punk.

With a sudden movement and a low growl Fushimi threw back his covers and made yet another trip to the rest room. This time though he would not be using it for its intended purpose. He fished through his drug cupboard seeking out his pair of scissors from the back. They still had blood from the last time he did this to himself. He laughed dryly his throat constricting and his stomach flipping.

" _Why do I do this to myself?"_ A soft voice from within cried in his mind. He smiled sardonically, "Because, no one cares." He whispered bitterly to himself. He held his arm out palm up and looked at the scarred flesh that lay before him. Every mark was a vow to get his Misaki back, but every mark was also a vow to punish Misaki for all the pain he had caused him. He casually regarded the blade in his right hand and slowly placed it to his flesh, like a greeting as the cold metal warmed against his skin. And quicker than he could process he dragged it across the marred flesh leaving a red trail in its wake. It hurt so good. He felt a slight smile grace his lips and made another cut and another, until there was no flesh left uncolored on his forearm. He was trembling, panting slightly as he dropped from his high and assessed his situation. Perhaps he had gotten to excited as there were drops of scarlet painting his white tile floor. The blood always evoked a feeling in him that made it so he could finally cry.

Staring forlornly at his arm he felt two stray tears slip down his cheeks and off his chin. "Misa…ki…" He breathed his voice grating like sandpaper. He hid the scissors again and returned to his bed even with all the red on his arm. He could care less. At least that's what he kept telling himself, he could care less. The problem was that where Misaki was involved he cared to much. Reaching the bed, he hesitated, he already could feel the faint throbbing fading. His cure wasn't as effective as it had been, that's why he was littered with scars, and healing cuts. In an attempt to quell his restlessness Fushimi returned to the restroom a few more times. However, no matter how much he mutilated his flesh his state of mind didn't change and his restlessness only increased. Abruptly, the blue soldier growled and darted from his bed, he wiped away what blood hadn't dried, threw on some dark clothes, grabbed his coat and with knives close to hand he plunged into the early winter evening. Saruhiko hoped that he would find some sort of release, because all this pent-up energy was going to make him explode if he couldn't find a way to release it. Hopefully he could run into Misaki. A deranged smile twisted his features and he chuckled to himself. Ah, yes, a fight with Misaki would set all right. Who cared what else happened, when he was fighting Misaki he felt his best, and with where he was from being alone with himself he needed to see Misaki, he needed to break him, or even better have Misaki break him.

Yata verbally bashed Kusinagi in his head. Criticizing him for trying to blame all of his problems on Fushimi. What happened with the traitor had happened and gone into the past. Nothing could change on that front. At least that is what the red head told himself. He had been ignoring the pleasure that fighting his old comrade brought. Sometimes it almost felt like they were on the same team. If Yatagarasu were to be honest with himself he would recognize that he missed his friend, that the weight in his chest was rot from mourning two people, one of which he had yet to realize was not dead.

A moment of intense thought and a slight bump threw the teen from his board and sent him sprawling on the unforgiving concrete. "Fuck!" he cursed as he took a moment to regain his bearings and peel himself from the ground. Even when Fushimi wasn't around he still managed to hurt him.

"J _ust thinking about the bastard gets me into trouble."_ Yata thought crossly. As he stood he assessed his surroundings and realized he had gone a bit farther from HOMRA home base than he had intended. In this area of the city there were even less people out and the alley ways were darker and less inviting even for a member of the red clan. Misaki shivered, he felt like he was being watched, but he brushed it off as paranoia. It was all Kusinagi's doing, putting thoughts into his head, "Talk to Fushimi?…heh…yeah right." He scoffed derisively as he placed his board and set to push off towards his usual haunts.

The sound of a clicking tongue made Yatagarasu freeze and he hardly dared to breath thinking he was going nuts. "I'm touched Mi-sa-ki~" there was a pause in which the red head half turned to face the specter from his thoughts. "to know that you _do_ think about me~"

Yata's face hardened and he glared Fushimi. "What the **fuck** are you doing here?" he snarled from between clenched teeth.

So, there is Yatagarasu's head and their encounter. Thoughts are appreciated. Thank you to all who followed, favorited and reviewed. You are a writer's lifeblood and motivation. So, thank you!

~CGreyson.


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